


Right on Target

by sa_mu_uu



Category: One Piece
Genre: Assassination Attempt(s), Hanging Out, Kissing In A Car, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-21 23:18:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6061852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sa_mu_uu/pseuds/sa_mu_uu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kid is out to kill someone, until he finds that he can't. A fluffy, suggestive oneshot written for viv-heart. KidLaw AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Right on Target

**Author's Note:**

> Oneshot AU with mindless, suggestive fluff for tumblr user viv-heart  
> Rating: T  
> Words: 7506  
> Warnings: death, medical malpractice mention, alcohol mention  
> This story is a total mess. xD As expected of my first attempt at KidLaw, I guess. Gosh, I thought they'd be easier. o_o Oh well, please enjoy!

Kid's going to kill someone.

It's nobody he knows personally; at least, not if the profile that he has folded up in his back pocket is anything to go by. But he's going to steal their life away all the same, just as his job description says he must.

That's why he's sitting with his knees up to his forehead, wedged into the back seat of some stranger's spotless black Lexus on the sixth floor of the Grand Line Hospital parking garage. His job. Nobody ever said it's a _good_ job.

He hates his job more than anything; every target he's given seems to be more disgustingly subhuman than the last. The one he's after tonight might finally be enough to make him throw up, assuming the trend continues. Frankly, Kid's looking forward to finally seeing the bastard's face just so he can get it over with.

It's below freezing outside, and the wind coursing through the parking garage slips through the door Kid's head is pressed against to steal away any heat the car's managed to hold onto. He chews on his lip, listening closely to the distant sounds of cars unlocking and starting up from above and below him. Dozens of people are coming and going, despite the fact that he can count the number of hours past midnight it is on one hand. Kid probably should have taken a closer look at the asshole's schedule before planning his attack, but hindsight is better than foresight or whatever.

He briefly considers setting a car bomb up and going home; but traps like that are more expensive than a single bullet, and Kid is more than a little stingy when it comes to money these days. So he sucks it up and brings the collar of his jacket up closer around his freezing cold face with a sigh.

It's his third job of the month—he'd usually be up to eight by now, but for whatever reason the market for assassinating people is always down in the winter; maybe people are just too busy freezing their asses off to hate each other. Luckily for him, though, whoever wanted his current target dead paid a hell of a lot to make sure it gets done. Twice the normal rate, in fact. He's already paying bills in his head, debating whether or not he's he's going to have enough left over to continue furnishing his new apartment this month. A new lamp would be nice; a guy can only repair an old one so many dozen times before it's time for something new. He's so invested in the thought that he almost misses the sudden shuffling outside the driver's door.

The car door opens with a sudden gust of cold, and a man slumps onto the seat heavily enough to shake Kid from his thoughts. The doctor—specifically a surgeon, from the looks of his clothes—drops a stack of folders into to seat next to him with no regard for where the papers spilling out of them landed. A cup of coffee seems to materialize from nowhere, and gets placed on the console right next to Kid's leg. The man shrugs his crisp white lab coat from his shoulders and drapes over the passenger's seat, before finally turning on the car.

Freezing air blasts from the vents behind his head as the car hums to life, and Kid has to restrain himself from cursing out at the feeling—as if it weren't cold as shit already, damn it—but the man in the driver's seat doesn't seem to notice in the slightest. The chilled steel of the gun's grip stings against the palm of Kid's hand; would it kill the guy to turn the heat on, seriously? Kid might just freeze to death before he has a good chance to pull the damn trigger. If only his spot on the floor weren't so low; the headrest of the driver's seat is blocking his shot perfectly. He'll just have to wait.

The target settles back into his seat, and Kid cautiously leans away as a lanky hand stretches toward him to the coffee cup resting on the center console. The man downs the rest of it without so much as a blink, the barely-still-steaming liquid vanishing down his throat as his bloodshot eyes focus on something in the abyss beyond the parking garage walls.

Kid would bet money that this guy hasn't had a good night's rest in years. At least he'd be able to give the man that; a rest to end all rests, so to speak. A lot of doctor guys, from what Kid has experienced, deserve to get buried six feet under anyway. They're either the sort of bastards that'll get drunk on the job and let a toddler die on the operating table—he's been paid to kill someone who did exactly that once before; he really doesn't want to talk about it—or they're halfway decent guys that are just so mentally exhausted day in and day out that death comes to them as a literal lifesaver.

This guy, though… At a closer glance, he doesn't seem much like either. He looks like a totally exhausted asshole, sure, with the bags under his eyes, his obviously styled bedhead and irritatingly stylish choice of goatee; but nothing about him screams "guilty scumbag" the way his targets usually do. He's not at all what Kid had been expecting.

He's young; probably not much older than Kid himself. Where his mind had been expecting bald spots and caked blood of the innocent, the man has layered, glossy black hair without a single strand of gray. The kind that begs to have fingers run through it. Instead of wrinkles, the only thing that mars his skin are the tattoos along his knuckles and forearms. Kid watches the "E, A, T, H" rhythmically tap the steering wheel, and chews the inside of his lip. For the first time in as long as he can remember, Kid wishes he'd had the mind to find out why the man has a number on him to begin with.

He isn't sure exactly how long he stares at the man from his spot hidden in the shadows—having briefly forgotten what he came there to do entirely—but he stays there with his breath caught in his throat long enough for a few intermittent cars to rumble past behind them. He doesn't move an inch until a muffled vibrating sound from the front seat brings him back to his senses. He looks up just in time to see the man pull a cellphone from his back pocket and hits the speaker button.

"Hello?" His voice is just as smoky and flat as his looks would suggest—a perfect match for his half-lidded expression.

"Dr. Trafalgar?" The mediocre-quality speaker on his phone crackles as the person on the other end speaks too loudly. "It's Penguin. Sorry, are you busy right now?" There's a shuffling in the background that drowns out the man's voice on the other end of the line. Somewhere in the distance, Kid can hear the beeping of monitors and the slamming of doors. Trafalgar—the name rings a bell. That's what's written in the profile he was given; Trafalgar Law. Kid doesn't often keep names in mind on jobs like these, but this one springs back to mind the moment he hears it. It's not a bad name at all.

"Not particularly," Law replies with a quiet yawn, his eyes shifting to the clock on the dashboard. "Although I was planning on heading home for a few hours of rest right about now. But I doubt you called to talk about my shitty sleep schedule."

The man on the other end of the call makes a noise in agreement. "Uh, yeah, that's not it…" His voice breaks off into a muffled yell, as if he pulled the phone away from his ear to call out to someone else for a moment. The sound of a rolling cart and exasperated voices pass in and out before he returns again. "Damn it, sorry, you still there? Anyway, so, the old lady from room 308? She crashed, man. We lost her."

There's a brief pause, and Law lets out a suppressed sigh. "...Just now," he says, more like a statement than a question. Suddenly the bags under his eyes look twice as heavy. "As in, right after I left the building."

"Huh? No—dude, wait—it's not your fault," the guy apparently named Penguin says quickly. "It's… well, nobody's fault. We did everything we could. Really. I don't know, she was just... too old to handle it."

"...Well, I figured it would happen soon."

"Doctor...?" The man on the other end of the call sounds almost sort of scared, or at least really confused; like he'd expected a different sort of response. "I mean, if you want to come and—"

"No," Law interjects, looking down the glowing screen in his hand. "I'll be back in a few hours. Thanks for letting me know." His finger hits the end call button before the man can respond, and silence falls over the car again.

If his target is tense over that last call, Kid can't see it. If anything, he looks even more calm than he did before, if that were even possible. If there's ever going to be a perfect time to take his shot, Kid figures it must be this.

He shifts forward to adjust his angle, but freezes when his hand makes contact with a thin, metallic rectangle on the floor of the car beside him. Before he can even figure out what the hell he's touching, the speakers directly next to his ear and all throughout the car burst to life in an ear-splitting chorus of death metal that vibrates the windows above his head so violently that he nearly pulls the trigger out of reflex alone.

He clamps a hand over his mouth to stifle the noise he makes in surprise, but it hardly makes a difference because the target in the front seat is already turning around to look right at him.

Their gazes lock on contact, and Law's expression twists into this tight-lipped sort of pout that sends more of an "are you fucking kidding me" kind of message than a "holy shit there's a stranger in my car" one. With his finger still ghosting over the trigger, Kid ignores the instinct blow the guy's brains out in favor of taking a moment to appreciate his now entirely visible face. He's looked plenty of men in the face before taking their lives, but never one even remotely as stunning.

Without skipping a beat, Law taps the button on the dashboard to shut off the music. "...That looks uncomfortable," he mutters, studying Kid's face in the same way Kid's doing to him. He shifts around in his seat to face Kid properly, then slowly, carefully, leans down to grab the device—a shitty, beat up, original ipod from the looks of it—from the floor next to Kid's leg. He doesn't even give the gun in Kid's hand a second glance; like he doesn't actually care that it's there.

The moment when Law's hand touches the floor and his head is so low that his chin touches the centerpiece would have also been a good time to pull the trigger, but the thought doesn't even cross his mind. He's far too busy trying to figure out if Law's eyes are really that impossible shade of gold, or if the lights in the parking garage are playing tricks on him.

"So. Hi," Law says slowly, raising an eyebrow. He sets down his music player on the seat next to him, not breaking eye contact in what could be construed as an act of hesitancy. Maybe.

Kid's mouth snaps shut, then opens it again to say something, but nothing comes out save for a single noise of acknowledgement. Unfortunately for him, Law makes no move to say anything else; he just stares back at Kid expectantly. But before he has the chance to say anything intelligible, the phone sitting on the dashboard rings again and steals away their attention.

"Hold that thought," Law grumbles tiredly, rubbing his eyes with one hand and grabbing his phone from its spot on the dashboard with the other, opting to hold it up to his ear this time. "You picked a really shitty time to be calling; what do you need now?"

Kid can't hear the other side of the call this time, but he can make out a few stuttering noises before Law's face twists into an irritated frown.

"Penguin already told me," he replies, leaning back against the steering wheel and propping his knees up on the back of the driver's seat. "Tell the rest of the team not to call me until six, unless someone actually still among the living desperately needs me for something."

So, even with a gun in his face, he expects to live to see the sunrise. Interesting.

Law hangs up without saying anything else, then goes back to staring Kid down with hazy eyes from a distance. Part of Kid wishes that the phone call had lasted longer, so he'd have had a couple more moments to get his shit together before being prompted to speak again.

"...So, someone died, huh?" Kid says after a moment, inwardly slapping himself for not coming up with something smoother. Fucking typical.

"It happens a lot more often than one might think." Law lowers his dull gaze to Kid's hands. "Something tells me you already know that, though."

"Huh? Oh, uh…" Kid glances down at the gun in his hand and makes a face before making a half-assed attempt at hiding it behind his back. "Yeah. ...I mean, shit, this is weird."

"'Weird' doesn't even begin to describe the feeling of finding some jacked stranger hiding in my car with a gun."

"You seem pretty damn calm for someone staring death in the face," Kid notes, cocking an eyebrow. If Law thinks he's the only one capable of being snarky in a weird situation, he's got another thing coming.

"What, are you seriously still thinking about killing me? You haven't even tried to take the shot yet." The man's half-dead expression flickers to a frown for a moment. "Is this supposed to be a heist or something? If that's the case, you're doing an unbelievably shitty job. Just so you know, your best bet would be to take my credit cards and break down this car to sell for parts... There's not a person alive that'd be willing to pay a ransom for me."

It almost sounds like the man had mulled over this situation before. That's actually sort of sad. "Nope, I fully intended to take you out the second you showed up," he says, flicking the barrel upward, simulating the recoil of a hypothetical fire to prove his point.

"Take me out, huh?" Law drawls, tilting his chin up. Kid realizes a moment too late that his choice of words were a bit off. "So what changed?"

_I saw your face._ "I just might've changed my mind, what of it?" Kid retorts with a sneer, sitting up a bit from his place wedged between the seats. "Y'think maybe I should change it back, and just go for it?" And for all intents and purposes, logic dictates he should do exactly that. The fact that he's gone this long in a conversation with someone who should be dead is strange enough. Then again, Kid's never been the biggest fan of logic.

"How should I know?" Law shifts his gaze to look out the driver's seat window and blinks slowly. "...I'm still not entirely sure what you're here for. Is it revenge? For instance, I let someone you loved die, so you're here to take my life in return?"

"Nah, it's nothing that dramatic." The way Law is saying it sort of makes it seem like that's happened to him in the past. Kid wouldn't doubt it; at the very least, that would explain why the man is taking this so easily. "I'm just here trying to do my job and pay rent. It's nothin' personal, really."

Law pauses for a moment, then his shoulders slacken and he laughs. "Hired assassination, huh… Wow. That's a new one."

For the first time in his entire career, Kid actually feels a tinge of sympathy for his target; the emotion is enough to make him lower his weapon. Law's eyes slide back to him again, and his stomach churns; it's not supposed to be personal, really, but… something about the surgeon's demeanor is making it difficult to think of it that way.

"Today's really not goin' your way, huh?" Kid says in a lackluster attempt to sound sympathetic. Something about the way Law grimaces and pointedly turns his gaze even further away this time tells him he's not doing a particularly good job. But as Law goes to speak, his distant expression lessens and he looks over to Kid with pure bewilderment.

"You," he starts, and his eyes narrow a bit like he's trying to work something out in his mind. "You've been sitting here inside my car for—" He pauses to yawn. "—I don't even know how long, and you've haven't even told me your name yet. Who are you?"

"Are you under the impression that hit men usually introduce themselves?" Kid frowns, taking a moment to try to process that information. "Not very bright for a doctor, are ya?"

"Nothing about this encounter strikes me as 'usual'," Law replies, pointedly ignoring the insult. "But if you don't want to at least give me something to work with, I'll have to make something up for you instead."

"It's Kid. Eustass Kid." Like hell he's going to let a guy like this make up a nickname for him.

Law is quiet for a moment, tilting his head ever so slightly to the side, like he's letting the name roll around in his mind. "...Somehow, that actually suits you. It sounds like the name of an old western outlaw or something equally bullshit."

Kid snorts under his breath, and it occurs to him that the likelihood of him going through with his job at this point is abysmally low. He might as well just throw in the towel now and go home. For the first time in his life, his target it charming the shit out of him; and he has no idea how to handle it.

"You know what? I'm getting hungry," Law quietly speaks again, and Kid can't tell if it was meant to be heard or not until the man turns back to him with a sly smile. "How about we go get some food, Eustass?"

"Food?" Kid looks up at him from the floor with a bewildered expression. Did he hear that right? There's no way he heard that right. "What, is that some kinda joke?"

"I'm quite serious, actually," Law replies with a smug sort of smile, apparently finding Kid's reaction amusing. "You can make up for trying to kill me by footing the bill."

Footing the bill? With what, the money Kid's _not_ going to get from killing him? But admitting that a late night snack or whatever would be enough to put a dent in his wallet is out of the question. "I… Yeah, I'm down for that."

"Come on, then," Law says, nodding toward the passenger seat. "Get off of my floor and move up here."

What, does Law still feel like he needs to keep an eye on him? That's probably a smart move on his part, so Kid doesn't complain. He climbs up onto the back seat, then kicks his legs up over the center console to slide feet-first into the front, careful not to get dirt on the pristine lab coat covering the seat. He doesn't bother with the seat belt, preferring to lean partly against the side door. For more reasons than one, he'd rather keep a close eye on Law as well.

Watching him settle back into the front seat, Law's gaze catches his again. He seems to take that as the signal to throw car into reverse; and before Kid can blink, they're not in the parking spot anymore.

Feeling the car in motion for the first time after hours of sitting still is all sorts of liberating; and if the speed at which Law heads for the exit on the first floor are any indication, he feels the same way.

"Jus' for the record, I technically never _tried_ to kill you," Kid says, watching lines of car rush past outside the window. "I was just prepared to. If I'd actually tried to go through with it, we wouldn't be here right now."

Law scoffs, rounding a corner to reach the next level toward the ground floor. "Mm, somehow I doubt that."

"Is that... supposed to be a challenge or something?" Kid replies, the prospect and the man's tone both making him shift uncomfortably in his seat as his blood rushes down past his belt. Although he'd never admit it aloud, bold guys are a huge weakness of his.

"No." Law shakes his head, side-eyeing his rear-view mirror. "Just an... observation."

Kid swallows thickly, turning his attention back to the road in order to contain himself. "Sure. Whatever you say, doc."

They make it all the way off of hospital property before it actually occurs to Kid just what the hell he's doing. He's going out on an excursion with his target—his target who is still alive, and currently managing to turn him on with his words alone. _Fuck._

"Hey," Law speaks up as they reach the highway. "...Can you do me a favor, Eustass?"

"Yeah?" Whatever it is he wants, there's no way Kid can refuse when Law says his name like that.

"Put that thing down already," he finishes, giving a pointed look to the gun still in Kid's hands.

It takes a moment of questioning eye contact to register what he's talking about.

Flashing an amused smirk, Kid watches the man's sideways glance follow his hand as he slides the gun down between the passenger seat and the side door. Not exactly the most secure of locations to leave it in, but at the very least his finger is away from the trigger, and Law seems to appreciate that.

"Thanks," Law mutters. His grip on the steering wheel loosens ever so slightly; is he actually sort of nervous? Kid's chest flutters at the thought that his smug attitude might have been something of an act.

Less than ten minutes later, they pull over into some fast food place drive through Kid has never heard of, and Law prattles off a list of numbers and words that go way over his head. Kid just orders the largest size of whatever soda they have with the highest amount of caffeine, opting to just steal some of Law's food rather than try to figure out the menu any further than that.

He already has his wallet in hand when Law prods him for it, which earns him a half-grin from the other man as he takes it and pays. They're handed a huge bag of food and two drinks, and Law gives him a brief warning of, "If you spill anything, I'll kill you," before pulling over into a parking spot hidden behind the building.

The ice cold liquid burns his throat on the way down as Kid takes a drink, and he lets out a contented noise with the straw still in his mouth. He doesn't miss the way Law's eyes narrow in on the plastic tube, giving it a strange look before turning back to his task of peeling the bread away from a cheese-covered burger.

"I thought doctors were supposed to eat healthy," Kid says, more as a joke than anything else.

"I guess we're both just pretty shitty at our jobs then, huh?" Law muses, throwing the top bun piece like a frisbee into Kid's lap. Kid stuffs it in his face without a second thought as to why Law is dismantling his sandwich, the scent of salt and meat having reminded him that he's actually hungry as hell. The bottom piece slides into his lap as well, and he takes it with a thankful noise through his full mouth. It actually tastes pretty damn good.

"Eustass, have you ever actually killed someone before?"

When Kid turns to him with a questioning look, Law doesn't avoid the eye contact; there's an expression of genuine curiosity on his face as he bites into his breadless, greasy cheeseburger.

Well, that was an understatement; Kid has taken more lives than he can count.

"Yeah, plenty of times," he replies after a moment. "Have you?"

"'Plenty' is a word for it." His expression darkens a bit; at what, Kid's not sure. "You could say it's part of the fine print."

"Fine print?" Kid snorts, casually leaning back so his knees rest against the glove compartment. "What fine print? You're a doctor, aren't you? I thought you guys were supposed to save people pretty much all the time."

"Most of the time, yes." Law nods loosely and follows suit, propping his long, thin legs all the way across the dashboard diagonally. His head rolls back to the headrest as he licks the leftover meat juice from his middle finger. "Other times, I'm told to guide people to a natural-looking death instead."

Well, that's news to Kid. Suddenly, the job he'd been given starts to make a bit more sense. The realization that Law might actually be the type of person he can't stand to see alive gnaws at the back of his mind; but he doesn't want to believe it. Instead, he prods for more information. "You're _told_ to kill patients? By who?"

"I suppose you could call him my employer." The word seems to ooze from Law's mouth like a thick, dull poison. "Whenever someone needs a patient to disappear, I get a call. You and I are sort of similar, in that regard."

"That's pretty fucked up." Kid watches closely as Law takes a long sip from the drink held between both of his hands. The man's knuckles turn white as the plastic beneath his fingers bends inward on itself. But after a moment, he sighs, and it pops back into place.

"Whatever, it could be worse," Law starts again, though it almost seems like he's simply trying to convince himself. "It's never been anyone who didn't deserve it."

There's a familiar look of detachment and exhaustion on Law's face when the man glances back over at him that makes his mouth feel dry. Kid subconsciously takes a swig from his drink, slowly nodding—half in agreement and half to himself. Yeah, Law's definitely not a bad guy; at; a least, probably isn't excessively guilty of himself. They really are the same.

"So, what about you?" Law starts again, pushing his straw around with the tip of his finger. "Tell me about your job or something."

"What about it?" Kid asks, slightly taken aback by the suggestion. The very few people in his life that actually know about his job have never asked about it before; this is new territory for him.

"I don't know, anything. Something less depressing." Law stretches his arms back over the back of his seat with a silent yawn, then turns on his side to face him entirely."Tell me about the strangest target you ever had."

"It was on a golf course," Kid says without thinking, then pauses for a second to cringe at the asinine memory his brain had provided him with when put on the spot like that. But Law's eyes light up curiously, inciting him to continue, and he can't refuse. "...He was just a lawyer or some shit, I think. The target himself wasn't exactly the strange part."

"Then what was it?"

Kid mulls over his wording for a moment, unsure quite how to explain it properly. "It was the way he, uh... died."

"Why?" Law raises an eyebrow, curling up in his seat like a child in the midst of a suspenseful bedtime story. "Did you murder him with golf equipment or something?"

"Nah, not quite." Kid shakes his head, and takes another bite from some of Law's discarded bread. "I hid in a tree and shot him while he was in one of those golf cart things, so technically it was the bullet. But..."

"But?"

" _But_ ," Kid echoes pointedly mid-chew, "he dropped dead with his foot still on the damn gas pedal. His corpse floored it all the way across the course. Security had to chase the cart the whole way."

"That's... fucking unbelievable," Law says, but the smile that spreads across his face as he imagines it seems to say that he wants to believe it anyway. "Seriously? How did they stop it?"

"Sand trap," Kid recalls with a smirk, barely managing to hold back and laugh at the thought of it. "The cart fell in and flipped over. I can't even try to describe how messed up it feels to watch five guys try to dig a half buried corpse out from inside a vehicle that's wheels are still spinning off their fucking axles."

Law buries his face in his hands and out of sight, but his body visibly shakes with a laugh that he tries and fails to suppress. Clearly, this guy has a really morbid sense of humor. Kid can appreciate that. A lot.

"...Wow," Law mutters after a moment, letting his hands fall from his face. "I have to admit, Eustass, I don't think I can beat that."

"Don't even wanna try?" Kid grins, but something settles low in his chest. That's a shame; he would have liked to hear more about Law's professional life.

"Mmh," Law's eyes blink slowly, and he shrugs. "Maybe next time..." The response comes out as more of a whisper than anything, laden with a tiredness that's almost contagious.

Kid can't bring himself to ask what the man means by "next time", half-convinced that the words had slipped out unintentionally along with the exhaustion. So he just sits back and watches the man try to hold onto some semblance of consciousness, wondering what the hell had happened that day leave the man with so little energy.

Is it really that late? Kid is somewhat of a night owl—it's yet another uncontrollable part of the job—so he doesn't remember what it's like to live with a more regular schedule. But the numbers "3:47" on the dashboard in bright yellow tell Kid that it is in fact really that fucking late, even by his own messed up standards.

Law's half-lidded eyes follow Kid's and catch sight of the time as well, then he lets out a quiet snort. "Today was going to be her birthday, if she'd woken up for it."

Kid turns to him puzzledly before it hits him; he must be talking about the old lady from the phone call—the one that the penguin guy had been talking about, and the second one that called too. They'd seemed surprised about what had happened to her, but Law had taken the news almost as if it wasn't news to him at all. He's either a damn smart doctor, or the most poker-faced assassin ever.

"Was she one of _them_?" Kid asks, relatively certain that the emphasis would be enough to clarify what he's talking about.

"No," Law answers simply, obviously understanding what he meant. "But… It's annoying when it's someone who wasn't supposed to die."

Kid understands that notion all too well. He's spent more nights than he'd like to admit thinking about the victims of his targets—about those who were sacrificed to bring those subhuman people to him in the first place.

For the first time all night, those dark eyelashes framing Law's stunning eyes flutter shut and stay that way. Maybe he's found some semblance of peace after venting for a bit; or perhaps the exhaustion had just finally caught up to him. Kid can't tell which, but he's relieved for him either way.

"...What are you doing?" Kid asks after a brief silence, and he inwardly berates himself for the way his voice sounds so soft.

"Resting my eyes… just for a few minutes. Then I'll take you home and get ready to go back to work."

Take him home? Part of him had honestly been expecting a trip to the police station. Kid wants to question him about it, but the words fall dead on his lips. Curled up facing him, Law looks for all the world like an angel—well, at least once you get past the decidedly un-angel-like letters on his fingers, and the sideburns framing his face that make him look anything but sinless. The man's chest rises and falls with low, even breaths, causing his partly unbuttoned shirt to shift out of place slowly and gradually. Kid hadn't noticed the chest tattoos before, but they're a welcomed addition to the image before him.

Even with just the lowlight of the dashboard glowing against his face, Law is undoubtedly the most gorgeous person he's ever met in his life. And to think he was a single trigger-pull away from never experiencing him—the thought alone makes him feel pissed off. At what, he's not entirely sure; at his job, at himself, at the person who asked for this man to die, or at how badly he wants to protect this person he's just barely met—probably all of it, really.

Kid shifts uncomfortably in his seat, trying to get his mind on something other than his irritation or how nice the surgeon looks. But the movement causes the gun beside his seat to hit the side door with a hollow _clack_ , and Kid sucks in a deep breath. Law's eyes snap open immediately, and Kid can feel the ice cold look of suspicion on him before he even has the chance to look up.

"Shit, my bad," he says quickly, but it doesn't amount to much of anything because there's already an arm across his shoulders to hold him back, and weight straddling his lap to press him into the seat. "H-hold on, it was just an accident—"

"I really should've done this earlier," Law says in a breathy tone, clearly still lost somewhere between sleep and consciousness. The exhale that tickles Kid's ear sends a shiver down his spine, but before he can ask what the hell Law is talking about, the scraping sound of metal against industrial plastic tips him off that Law is taking his gun from its hiding place. There's a sliding click and Kid watches as the rounds spill into Law's palm, before being stuffed away into the man's pocket. "There. Now I have nothing to worry about."

"'Nothing', huh...?" Kid echoes, briefly allowing his gaze to shift back and forth between the man's lips and his eyes that are suddenly far too close to his. "Really? Have you seen me?" The insinuation that he's harmless without a gun would have been infuriating in any other situation; he could kill a man with one finger, given enough effort.

Law's tired eyes drag over him, taking in the curves and dips of his flawlessly muscled figure before his lips curl into a lopsided grin. "Mm, good point. Maybe I should tie you up to be extra careful."

Part of Kid really, really doesn't want to object to that. But if Law is even half as close to total unconsciousness as he looks, agreeing to that might not be the best idea. Otherwise he could be stuck in this car for even longer while he waits for the man to wake up—and Law looks like he could sleep for days.

"Listen, Trafalgar, I'm not gonna kill you," Kid says, shifting underneath the arm pressing tightly to his shoulders. His hands, which don't have much in terms of free range, find their way to Law's waist, and he lets his thumbs trace over his hipbones reassuringly. "I don't know who paid for the job to get done, but they can go fuck—"

The sound of his statement is abruptly cut off, and it takes Kid all of a second to realize that Law has closed—more like fallen through—the space between them to kiss him. Kid's heart stills in his chest as Law caresses his cheek languidly, bending and lifting slightly from his lap to reach his lips without getting too close. But Kid's fingers tighten their grip and pull him back down the moment he feels him leave, unwilling to give up the newly found warmth between their bodies. For a brief moment Law's lips quiver against his, and he makes a contented noise before shifting back on his knees.

"What... was that?" Kid manages to say without sounding like a total moron, although his mind has yet to catch up with him and he's certain his expression looks as dumbfounded as he feels.

"Eustass," Law murmurs, his eyes hazed over with something other than pure exhaustion. His cheeks look hot to the touch, and his lips are dark and wet despite their kiss barely lasting more than a few moments; Kid can't help but imagine what the man would look like after being under his ministrations for a few more minutes. "Say my name again."

He's not quite sure why that's what Law wants out of him, but he's more than willing to oblige. Law wants him; that much is obvious, and that's all he needs to know. "Only if you kiss me again," Kid starts, more than a little embarrassed at how out of breath he sounds. With a subtle upward roll of his hips, he adds, " _Trafalgar_."

There's a flash of undeniable hunger in Law's eyes, and the man studies his face closely with a heavy, sultry expression as he slowly leans back in. The scent of natural musk, antiseptic, and a little bit too much mint envelopes him as Law slides his arms around his neck; Kid's heard somewhere before that chewing gum can help keep you awake. Maybe the surgeon can attest to that.

Kid welcomes Law's mouth again eagerly, biting his bottom lip the second it gets close enough. Law moans openly against him, though it almost sounds like a yawn, and they fall back into a rhythm of slow, messy kisses and aimless tugging at each other. Law takes it upon himself to grind their hips together, and the pressure against Kid's now-rock-hard arousal is almost more than he can handle. But there's a heart pounding against his chest that isn't his own, and a tongue rubbing behind his teeth that isn't his either, and he figures it's not even worth the strenuous effort to try breathing anymore when it's been forcibly stolen from him anyway.

"I must— _mmh_ —really be out of it," Law mutters between fervent kisses, his fingers knotting haphazardly into Kid's hair as the other untucks his shirt from his pants to get his hands underneath.

"Yeah, no shit." Kid wraps his arms around Law's chest inside his shirt, taking pleasure in the heat radiating from his skin. "Your body's moving like lead."

Law hums unintelligibly in response, either because he's offended or agrees, and sinks deeper into his arms. In reality, his movements are slow but torturously calculated, driving Kid wild with every slide of his fingers or press of his lips. If this is what he's capable of reducing Kid to while half-awake, Kid would kill to experience him in a more invigorated state. He shudders slightly at the thought, and reflexively pulls Law closer.

On a deeper level, however, Kid struggles to clear up his already thoroughly muddled mind. This is bad; if they keep going like this, he's going to have an extremely hard time stopping. And as much as he'd like to believe that Law would let him continue, he's certain that the man wouldn't be able to keep up.

But before he can voice his thoughts, as if on cue, Law breaks away and presses their foreheads together, letting out a hot, staggering breath that heats the bridge of Kid's nose. "Ngh... Eustass, I—"

"Hey, don't overdo it, idiot," Kid jumps in, grabbing Law's shoulders to help keep him upright and steady. Shit, at this rate, he really might kill him after all. "You alright?"

"Fine," Law answers simply, rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hands. "It's only vertigo. Just… a bit of fatigue."

A bit? That's an understatement if Kid's ever heard one. Carefully but forcefully, he lifts Law from his lap and guides him back into the driver's seat, much to Law's irritation. But before Law can complain about it, Kid picks up his soda and holds it out for him to drink, because he needs it, damn it. "Here. Caffeine."

"...Thanks," Law says resignedly, taking a long sip. It seems to do him some good, if the deep sigh of relief he lets out afterward is any indication. His hair is even messier before, and his face is heavily flushed, but his expression is perfectly neutral. Like he hadn't just been trying to suck out Kid's soul through his mouth or anything at all. "Sorry about that."

"Don't be," Kid replies, taking in a much needed breath. He leans back against the door again, doing very little to conceal his very obvious problem. He can see the way Law's eyeing it in his peripherals anyway; why spoil the view? "That was… pretty fucking nice, not gonna lie."

Running a hand through his hair—which accomplishes absolutely nothing—Law turns back and begrudgingly rests his arms over the steering wheel. "I suppose that getting you home sooner rather than later would be the smart thing to do here..."

"Unless you have it in you to go further right now, probably," Kid admits, and it's almost sort of painful to watch the half-smile wash over Law's face.

He's going to need a really long shower when he gets back.

Unsurprisingly, the ride back doesn't take long. Kid had walked to the hospital in the first place, and their excursion hadn't taken them all that far from there. That said, he doesn't give Law his exact address; it's more of a habit than anything, not letting people know where he lives. The street corner a couple of blocks away is good enough for his purposes anyway.

At least, it is until he steps out of the car and remembers how fucking freezing it is outside. But he grits his teeth and bears with it. "Sorry for taking up all of your break time," Kid says, although he's not really sorry in the slightest. Judging by the look he gets in response, Law doesn't believe him anyway.

"You know, Eustass," Law starts, looking up at him from the driver's seat with an overly nonchalant expression. "When I go in for my night shift this Friday, I might accidentally leave my car unlocked."

Is that Law's way of asking to see him again? If so, it's cute as hell, but Kid resists the urge to mention that. "I didn't need it unlocked to get in the first time, did I?" he asks, pointedly raising an eyebrow.

"No, I suppose you didn't," Law replies, rolling his eyes with an expression that at the very least seems more amused than annoyed. "Feel free to break into my private property again, then."

"Alright, it's a date." Kid is entirely unable to stop himself from smiling at that. "Should I kiss you goodnight, or save it for next time?"

To answer his question, Law grabs a fistful of Kid's shirt and pulls him in close, halfway back into the car and into the warmth. He kisses Kid again, more firmly this time, without any of the playful sleepiness of the last ones. He can practically feel the energy drain from Law as they part.

"Hey, get some rest, alright?" Kid says with a cough, willing the sudden blush on his face to disappear before it's noticed. "I mean it, no bullshit naps. Some _real_ rest."

Law makes a face that one could almost describe as a pout, and settles back into his seat. "I'll see what I can do."

That's good enough for him. "G'night, Trafalgar."

Law gives a quick glance to the time on the dashboard, then snorts. It's decidedly not night anymore, but he plays along. "Yeah, right. Goodnight, Eustass."

Kid watches as he drives off, mildly impressed at how smoothly the vehicle moves as it disappears around the corner; at least the man is able to get himself back safely. As much as he hates to admit it, he's taken a serious liking to Law. The way he talks, the way he kisses… Kid chews on the inside of his lip as he stands at the corner alone. He would be more than a little upset if something happened to him.

In fact, it'll take Kid a bit of time to get over the fact that he himself had almost been the "something" that happened to Law. As he walks around the corner towards his apartment, he makes a mental note; he's going to kill someone. It's nobody he knows personally, but he'll find them regardless. Whoever put a number on Law's head better enjoy today, because it's the last day they'll ever have.


End file.
